


Fisheye

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, PWP, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli stumbles on a rather unusual display.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fisheye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mozzarella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for mozzarellaroses’ “Bilbo fucks somebody while invisible and some third person walks in and sees Bilbo's partner's ass getting fucked open by invisibilbo, widening and contracting for no apparent reason” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=25261685#t25261685).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Kíli would know his brother’s cries a world away. They call to him through the fugue of his dreams, pull him to waking, blinking through the darkness of their little camp. Nestled in amongst the trees, the starlight just barely reaches the sleeping company. As Kíli rises, one hand over his mouth to stifle his yawn, he counts the curled lumps around him, easily picking out the longer one of Gandalf and the thicker one of Bombur. Thorin is a little larger too, but the rest are around the same—Fíli should be the smallest, save for the tiny Master Bilbo. But the Dwarven company is two short when Kíli counts, which nearly makes him shout for all to wake, until he realizes that, of course, Balin’s off on watch. 

Which leaves Fíli, Kíli knows, nowhere to be found. Bilbo is also missing, although he’s grown a tendency to slip away of late. Kíli would worry for any of his missing companions, but Fíli he worries for most of all; losing Fíli would be like losing a part of himself. 

He rises quietly out of the circle and only doesn’t panic because, when he really concentrates, he’s sure he can hear Fíli’s deep voice on the wind. There are miniscule, stifled whispers, noises not quite spoken, and the rustling of leaves and grass. Kíli carefully makes his way to the brim of the circle, following the telltale sound. 

The farther he gets from the dwarves, the more he’s sure of it; Fíli’s off making those desperate, keening noises that always make Kíli _squirm_. They’re only ever whispered in the dead of night, when Kíli’s thought to be asleep but isn’t, because he’d much rather listen to the needy cries of his brother, even if it means hating himself in the morning. Now is no different than it’s been between them for years—Fíli must be off touching himself, and Kíli, like the dirty, twisted brother that he is, seeks out his own sibling’s need. 

A little bit of stealthy movement and he’s there; he creeps behind the thick trunk of a tree and peers around, his hair falling to obscure his vision. He brushes it back and gasps: the moonlight exposes everything. 

Fíli is in the tiny clearing ahead, down on all fours in the dirt, his legs spread and his face turned against the ground, fingers clawing at the earth. His discarded clothes are all around him, disheveled and forgotten, while his pale skin shines bare, glimmering with the beads of sweat. His blond hair has tumbled all about his shoulders, sticking in the mud below and slicked across his forehead, his face painted pink in exertion, twisted out in ecstasy. But what Kíli sees most of is his rear, his parted thighs, the full, round curve of his ass, and the gaping hole in between. The puckered brim is stretched to its limit, impossibly wide and showing Kíli _everything_ : he can see right into the soft red flesh of his brother’s insides. There are no fingers to hold it open. By some strange magic that Kíli can’t hope to fathom, Fíli’s asshole is held open of its own accord. His cheeks are spread, lined with reddened grooves like hands are squeezing them and holding them apart, but there’s no body to be seen. It’s just Fíli, arched and beautiful, held bare to the world. 

Kíli’s first wild, crazed thought is that it’s some gift meant just for him; he’s died and gone to heaven, and now the thing he wants most is offered up to him on a silver platter, just waiting for him to slip inside. It’s all Kíli can do to stay where he is and not lunge across the clearing. There must be _some_ explanation, but Kíli’s too dazed to think of it. Blood’s pounding in his ears with the spike of his pulse, his skin broiling suddenly too hot below his clothes, his cock instantly hard within his trousers. Though Fíli seems to be trying to hold back his cries, it’s an impossible task, and the sheer ecstasy of his voice fills Kíli to the breaking point—he rubs himself shamelessly against the tree before him, staring forward with rapt attention.

It takes him several seconds, filled with lust-clouded vision, to realize that Fíli’s poor hole is _moving._ The pink, crinkled edges are fluctuating, first contracting, then stretching, never quite closing but still varying wildly for one moment to the next. Kíli thinks something must be _inside it_ , stretching it so, but of course, there’s no one there. Yet Fíli’s ass is repeatedly plundered just the same, shoved apart and given room to relax, only to be forced wide again. Fíli’s round, fuzzy balls are hanging loose between his thighs, swaying back and forth with the steady rocking of Fíli’s hips, and his thick, hard cock swings with it. But when Kíli forces himself to really pay attention, he thinks he can see it, too, being squeezed, treated like it’s being stroked, although Kíli can’t see any hand around it all. 

The strangest of all is when it ends. It ends far, far too soon; Kíli isn’t ready; he’s only just discovered it; he doesn’t know what devilry this is, but wants to see it go on forever, yet Fíli suddenly shoves his mouth against his arm and _roars_. It’s stifled by his own flesh, but Kíli hears it in his bones: the luxurious, wondrous scream of his brother in an orgasm. Kíli’s hand shoots between his legs, unable to stop himself, and he cups and squeezes in abandon while Fíli’s hips jerk harder than ever, his white seed splattering the forest floor. 

And a heartbeat later, a similar substance spills into Fíli’s gaping hole. The pearly white of it stands out against the redness and shadows of his ass, swallowed up though it is, spilling first near the entrance, then shoved deeper in, only to be pulled out again, hanging in great, sticky webs. It dribbles out around Fíli’s thighs, and Fíli moans, arching back into the invisible force. As his roars dissipate into little whines and whimpers, Kíli becomes aware of the unmistakable sound of slapping skin-on-skin. Yet no parts of Fíli’s body are beating one another. It makes no _sense_ , and Kíli doesn’t care, because it gives him the ability to pretend it’s the sound of him finishing, like he pretends the seed in Fíli’s ass is his own, pressed out of his own cock into Fíli’s tight confines. 

Eventually, the swells and sway of Fíli’s beautiful hole roll to an end. The seed seems to be dragged out of him, clinging at the glistening edges, and his abused asshole slowly clenches back up, the slapping sounds gone. What’s left is heavy panting, Fíli’s, and Kíli’s, and maybe one more. 

In the blink of an eye, Bilbo appears out of nowhere.

It happens so fast that Kíli almost falls backwards, shocked beyond words. He didn’t even blink. It was just Fíli, collapsing against the forest floor, and now little Bilbo Baggins, just as naked and spent, is crawling around him and lying down to snuggle. The pair of them rub their heads like kittens, golden waves mixing across both their foreheads, and they kiss while their legs tangle together, spent cocks meeting in the middle. 

Kíli gets one beautiful shot of Bilbo’s ass, lying next to his brother’s, and he lets out a horrible cry of ecstasy, coming all at once inside his trousers. He can’t stop; the wetness pervades his clothes and he cries to his end, slumping forward and still squeezing at his cock. 

When he lifts his head, Fíli and Bilbo are staring at him, wide-eyed. He’s fallen too far around the tree. He stares back at them, still just a bit too horny to splutter the appropriate apologies and shame. 

Bilbo looks sheepish and just as embarrassed, but Fíli slowly grins. He can probably smell Kíli’s arousal, see it all over his face. Fíli reaches out a hand, beckoning. 

Kíli lurches forward so fast he almost trips over his own boots, but instead makes it to the pair of them, where he collapses on Fíli in a giant, sloppy kiss, hoping desperately that Bilbo will pull that amazing trick again.


End file.
